


Erlkönig

by MilesLibertatis



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Heavy Angst, Literature, M/M, like MAJOR character death, wound infection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilesLibertatis/pseuds/MilesLibertatis
Summary: “How is he?”Nezumi glanced up, catching Rikiga’s worried eyes in the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to Shion, lying curled up in the backseat with him, head resting in his lap. Shion’s breathing came erratically, fingers weakly clutching the torn and dirty fabric of Nezumi’s trousers, face screwed up in a pained grimace. Nezumi’s eyes fell from Shion’s pale face to the bandages wrapped around his neck, stained green and yellow with oozing pus, filling the car with a wretched smell. He met Rikiga’s eyes again, and shook his head quickly, jaw clenched tight. Shion was dying, and it was his fault.---After narrowly having escaped the parasite wasp, the surgery wound in Shion's neck becomes infected. Based on the poem Erlkönig by Goethe and the Lied by Schubert. Major character death.
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Erlkönig

**Author's Note:**

> It is Christmas time, which means it's time for my annual angst entry to the No.6 Secret Santa on tumblr! The prompt suggested illness or character death, so of course I took it upon me to write both. Heavily inspired by the poem Erlkönig by Goethe and the Lied by Schubert. I highly recommend [listening](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4N_e3B51RA) to it before reading! The original poem is in German, which is (presumably) a lost language in No.6, and since I can't quite assume everyone knows German I used the English translation by Christopher Middleton.

_“Shion, what’s that on your hands?”_

Nezumi frantically ran through the chain of events that had resulted in him and Rikiga trying to wrestle a delirious Shion into the car, Inukashi anxiously tapping their foot behind them. When had things gone so _wrong?_ He had only just saved Shion from being carried off to the Correctional Facility, a certain death sentence. Deeming themselves safe, they had freshened themselves up after the harrowing ordeal of escaping and Shion had been going on and on about his mother and strange deaths. At the time Nezumi had no clue what Shion was talking about, but now he berated himself for dismissing his words, for just as soon as he had waved him off, Shion became a victim himself. Shion had barely managed to escape from the terror that was No.6, only for another disaster to strike.

The parasite wasp.

In the moment Nezumi had briefly been grateful he had taken _(stolen?)_ the first aid kit when he had quietly fled Shion’s house in the Cronos district, all those years ago. Now he cursed himself for not having made sure the equipment was sterile.

“How is he?”

Nezumi glanced up, catching Rikiga’s worried eyes in the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to Shion, lying curled up in the backseat with him, head resting in his lap. Shion’s breathing came erratically, fingers weakly clutching the torn and dirty fabric of Nezumi’s trousers, face screwed up in a pained grimace. Nezumi’s eyes fell from Shion’s pale face to the bandages wrapped around his neck, stained green and yellow with oozing pus, filling the car with a wretched smell. Merely a few short weeks ago he had yelled at Shion, a scalpel in his hand, demanding he live. But instead, Nezumi had unknowingly become the cause of his potential death. If the situation weren’t so dire, he’d laugh. Instead, he met Rikiga’s eyes again, and shook his head quickly, jaw clenched tight. Shion was dying, and it was his fault.

But he would not give up yet. They were going to smuggle Shion into No.6 and find a hospital to treat him. Shion had told them where to find one, directions wheezed through waves of pain. No matter the odds, they _would_ succeed in this ridiculous, desperate plan. Shion would live, he would make sure of that. He refused to think of Shion dying, or how to go on living without him. He wasn’t sure he could.

“Nezumi…?”

Nezumi snapped to attention at the sound of Shion’s broken voice, barely audible over the loud car engine. “I’m here, Shion.” He brushed a few strands of tangled hair out of Shion’s face. His beautiful, white, almost translucent hair. Shion shivered but Nezumi doubted it was because of his touch.

“It hurts,” Shion moaned. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he hissed when a bump in the road jostled him and aggravated his already dreadful wound. “I don’t want to die. I… Nezumi, I want to live…” He weakly raised his hand and Nezumi immediately took it into his own.

“You’re gonna live,” Nezumi pressed, eyes locked determinedly with Shion’s. “You’ve survived this long, telling me how to take care of your wound for weeks. In No.6 they’ll be able to help you. You’re gonna make it.” He squeezed Shion’s hand reassuringly.

Shion shut his eyes and shook his head. “Sepsis and severe sepsis can last weeks but-”, a shudder ran through him and cut him off, “…but septic shock is quick and has- has a high mortality rate-”

_“Shion.”_

At his tone, Shion opened his eyes again and slightly turned his head to look hazily up at Nezumi.

Nezumi waited until he had Shion’s full attention. “You’re gonna live, you hear me? You can’t give up now. You still have so much to live for. I told you before, you still don’t know anything about sex, or books, or fighting. Do you really want to throw in the towel now?” Without realising, his voice had risen and he was nearly shouting. The mice which had been nestled silently in his scarf squeaked softly.

Shion stared up at him for a moment, before breaking out into a faint smile, eyes wet. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna make it.” A tear rolled down his cheek. Nezumi reached out to wipe it away. “Thank you, Nezumi.”

“Don’t thank me yet, just stay alive.”

Shion nodded and relaxed back into Nezumi’s lap, the corners of his lips still lifted in a soft smile. Unfortunately that smile warped into a grimace much too quickly. Shion moaned and curled up a little more, pulling his knees as far into his chest as the backseat would allow. Desperation seized Nezumi’s heart. Shion had saved him four years ago, he still hadn’t repaid that debt. He couldn’t let him die. He wracked his mind, trying to think of something, _anything_ he could do to help, to ease Shion’s suffering.

There was one thing that came to mind, but Nezumi hesitated. It was a last resort, meant to ensure a peaceful, quiet death, but maybe, just maybe he could soothe Shion’s pain just long enough until they arrived at the hospital. Shion moaned again, fragile and broken, and the sound cut deep into his heart.

So Nezumi took a deep breath and sang.

It was soft, hardly louder than a whisper, but it seemed to resonate through the car. Inukashi, who had been barking orders at Rikiga from the passenger’s seat, fell quiet and turned to stare, dark eyes wide and knowing. Nezumi ignored them and kept all of his attention on the boy in his lap who had frozen and was now staring up at him with big eyes. For once Nezumi was glad that Shion knew nothing of literature, culture, or foreign languages, for if he’d understood the lyrics, he was sure he would never be forgiven.

_“Who rides by the night in the wind so wild?  
It is the father, with his child.  
The boy is safe in his father’s arm.  
He holds him tight, he keeps him warm.”_

Shion closed his eyes and a bit of the tension seemed to flow out of his body. Nezumi inwardly sighed in relief, too preoccupied to remember how Granny would berate him for doing so. He glanced out of the window and saw the gate fast approaching, so he tugged on the scarf around his neck and pulled it up to hide his face. The mice chittered and ran down his arms to hide in his pockets instead. The car came to a halt and Rikiga leaned out of the window towards the guard, murmuring quietly and urgently before handing over a thick wad of cash- a bribe both to let them in, and to forget they’d been there. Nezumi listened closely and mentally thanked whoever was out there when the car rolled forward again, passing unhindered through the gate and quickly picking up speed, desperate to reach the hospital as soon as possible.

_“My son, what is it, why cover your face?  
Father, you see him, there in that place,  
The elfin king with his cloak and crown?  
It is only the mist rising up, my son.”_

Unwinding his scarf from around his head, Nezumi gently covered Shion’s shivering body with the special fibre cloth. He remembered seeing this song performed in the dingy theater once, before he had joined the cast. A traveling singer and pianist duo had attempted to visit No.6 but were mercilessly cast out, so they had turned to wandering the West Block, trying to make some money at the rundown theater before moving on again. He hadn’t understood the meaning or language of the song then, only remembered the shivers that inexplicably had run down his spine and the strange, curling tension in the darkened corners of the room, until one day he stumbled across the poem in one of the books in the vault and finally understood.

In Nezumi’s lap, Shion stirred and burrowed under the blanket, grateful for the warmth despite his body heating up steadily.

_““Dear little child, will you come with me?  
Beautiful games I’ll play with thee;  
Bright are the flowers we’ll find on the shore,  
My mother has golden robes fullscore.””_

“Mum…” Shion murmured, weakly pushing away from Nezumi and raising his head, glazed eyes darting around, searching. “Where are you, mum…?” Nezumi swallowed, pausing his singing to wipe fresh tears from Shion’s face. “You’ll see her soon,” he promised quietly. He wasn’t sure if he could follow through on it. He had to believe.

_“Father, O father, and did you not hear  
What the elfin king breathed into my ear?”_

Shion shook his head insistently, gasping as the movement pulled at the weeping wound in his neck and sent pain shooting through his spine, setting his entire body aflame. “No, no, I want my mum,” he babbled. He tried to push himself up, trembling and weak, into a sitting position- but his arms lacked the strength to hold his own weight and he collapsed back into Nezumi’s lap, sobbing softly.

_“Lie quiet, my child, now never you mind:  
Dry leaves it was that click in the wind.”_

“Hush now,” Nezumi murmured in the most soothing voice he could muster, softly running a shaking hand through Shion’s hair. His vision became foggy and he blinked away the tears. “Be a good boy now and you’ll see her soon.” In the front seat Rikiga and Inukashi shared an anxious look.

_““Come along now, you’re a fine little lad,  
My daughters will serve you, see you are glad;  
My daughters dance all night in a ring,  
They’ll cradle and dance you and lullaby sing,  
They’ll cradle and dance you and lullaby sing.””_

Shion nodded quietly and obediently settled down, face still wet with tears but no longer weeping. He seemed to be at peace for a few moments, but then his eyes widened again and his breathing quickened. “Nezumi…”

Nezumi’s heart lurched at the sudden lucidity and he held his breath. “I’m here, Shion.”

Shion shook his head and shrunk away from him. “No… No, you’re not Nezumi… I-I need to see him…”

“Shion-”

“I need to know he’s safe…” Shion’s eyes darted around frantically. “He left so suddenly, I must see him again-”

Realisation dawned on Nezumi and when it sank in, it knocked all the wind from his lungs. Of course Shion wouldn’t recognise him; he was four years older now. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath, trying to stop the tears from spilling. There was nothing he could say to reassure Shion anymore. He was too far gone. Even if they reached the hospital, they probably couldn’t help him anymore. So he gathered all his courage, every ounce buried in his soul, and pushed it into the song, hoping it could help carry off Shion’s soul in peace, like it had done for countless others before him.

_“Father, now look, in the gloom, do you see  
The elfin daughters beckon to me?”_

Shion paused his desperate searching and looked at Nezumi like he saw him for the first time, watching him with childlike wonder. “You have a beautiful voice,” he murmured. He studied Nezumi’s face and smiled. “And your eyes… they’re just as grey…”

_“My son, my son, I see it and say:  
Those old willows, they look so grey.”_

Nezumi returned his smile in a way he hoped was reassuring and combed his fingers through Shion’s damp hair. Shion’s eyes fell shut and he sighed, a wisp of a sound.

_““I love you, beguiled by your beauty I am,  
If you are unwilling I’ll force you to come!””_

“Sir…” Shion said quietly and Nezumi’s heart fell into pieces. “If you ever find Nezumi, could you please tell him “thank you”? And that I miss him very much?”

_“Father, his fingers grip me, O  
The elfin king has hurt me so!”_

“And my mum, too. Promise me.”

Nezumi swallowed painfully and nodded, not daring to stop singing out of fear it would shatter the tentative calm that had washed over Shion.

Outside the car, the scenery rushed by, lush forests and bustling wildlife, carefully maintained by the City Hall, blurred by the speed of the car as Rikiga pressed harder down on the gas.

_“Now struck with horror the father rides fast,”_

“There’s the tree Shion mentioned!” Inukashi yelled, pointing ahead of them at a gnarled old oak tree. “Floor it, old man!!”

“If I go any faster we’ll all die before we can even get there!” Rikiga snapped in return.

_“His gasping child in his arm to the last,”_

“Please, sir, promise me…!” Shion begged, hazy eyes fixed unerringly on Nezumi’s own.

_“Home through the thick and thin he sped:”_

The trees parted to reveal the tiny hospital, a white and pure beacon of hope in the dark. Nezumi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, but any and all hope that still lingered was crushed immediately after; wrapped in his arms, Shion took a ragged breath, spasmed once, twice, then fell limp, his blank eyes still staring up at Nezumi. Gravel sprayed under the wheels as the car swerved erratically into the parking lot and jerked into an abrupt halt. Seconds later the doors were yanked open and Nezumi heard someone yell something, but it didn’t register. He couldn’t move, frozen and staring unseeing at the boy in his arms, unable, _unwilling_ to believe what his eyes and ears were telling him. A tear dripped down his cheek, followed by another, and another, falling like rain against Shion’s lifeless form. Nezumi’s mouth moved silently, voice trapped behind the gasping sobs threatening to choke him, leaving the last line to hang unsung, oppressive in the heavy air: 

_(Locked in his arms, the child was dead.)_


End file.
